


Alcohol Isn't The Answer

by Sabulana



Series: Dragon Age Losers [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Probably ooc, purely self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4138035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabulana/pseuds/Sabulana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after Dorian's personal quest. </p>
<p>_________________________________________</p>
<p>Lavellan is worried about Dorian after the meeting with his father so she heads out to the tavern later to keep him company. She might not be able to stop him getting drunk, but she can at least limit the amount he does drink. It's not the best solution, but it is better than nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alcohol Isn't The Answer

**Author's Note:**

> Purely self-indulgent crap I wrote after completing Dorian's quest. Why isn't there an option to hug him, damn it? Or at least go drinking with him and make sure he's alright? That conversation barely seemed adequate, considering my inquisitor thinks of him as her best friend.
> 
> But anyway. Deliberately not described her so you can insert whatever appearance you want her to have. Also, I named her Shaelora, which is mentioned maybe three times or something.
> 
> Anyway, I never actually intended for anyone to see this but since I made a deal with someone that if they liked it, I would post it online, here it is. One other fic to follow in this 'Sabby made a bad decision' series and then I'm going back to alternating between my original fic and All That is Lost.

Inquisitor Lavellan left Dorian standing by the window, making a mental note to stop by the tavern later. Dorian may want to drink himself into a stupor now, but he would undoubtedly regret it in the morning. So would all of Skyhold. A hungover Dorian was not a nice Dorian.

For now though, there were reports. An inquisitor’s work was never done, it seemed. Not that she regretted accepting the position, but it was more responsibility than she was used to. Rather than working her way up to being the Keeper for her clan, she was now leading an organisation with power and influence spreading more or less all over Thedas. If she stopped to think on it for too long, she began feeling the urge to join Dorian and whoever else may be in the tavern for a long night of drinking. 

She looked over several reports left by Josephine, Leliana and Cullen, making a mental note of new allies gained, resources they needed and other such things. Every so often, she would stop and glance out at the sky, wondering if Dorian was truly drinking himself into a stupor as he had said. After about the tenth time, she dropped the current report on her desk and officially gave up. It was probably time to check on Dorian anyway. 

Dorian sat in a dark corner of The Herald's Rest with a bottle of wine and a glass that he wouldn't be using if he was alone. There were appearances to be upheld, after all. Dorian of House Pavus could not be seen drinking directly from a wine bottle like some kind of common lout. What would people say? He snorted to himself and considered throwing the glass away, but before he could, a shout caught his attention. The Iron Bull could be heard - as if anyone could ever miss him - calling out to the Inquisitor, inviting her over. He couldn't make out Lavellan's reply over the general noise of the tavern. Probably accepting the offer, he thought. Who would choose a miserable Tevinter mage actively drinking himself into an even more miserable stupor over the antics of the Iron Bull and his Chargers? Anyway, Dorian had been doing his best to seem unapproachable all night.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, the mage didn't realise that he actually did have company until a couple of tankards were set on the table in front of him.

"Hello, Dorian," greeted Lavellan with a smile. 

"Inquisitor. Decided to join me after all, have you?" He smiled, but it was clearly lacking his usual charm. 

"I can only look at my advisors' reports for so long before I feel the tavern calling me," Lavellan replied. "I brought you a drink, though I don't know how much you've had so far," she added, nudging a tankard closer to him.

The mage accepted it and drank without question. After the first mouthful, he set the tankard back down on the table and fixed the elf with a serious gaze. "You know, my dear Inquisitor, that in order for one to get magnificently drunk, one must drink something other than water," Dorian said, looking at the contents of his tankard with something like disgust. The clear liquid sloshed gently as if mocking him.

"You'll thank me in the morning," Lavellan replied. "Drink up and then I'll fetch us some beer." She watched him expectantly.

Dorian gave her a withering glare but drank obediently. "If I end up sober after this-"

"One drink of water will not counteract the however much alcohol you drank before I got here," Lavellan said. "But it may help your hangover in the morning."

Dorian finished the rest of the water. "Fine. Done. Can we resume getting blindingly drunk now? Well, I suppose in your case, it will be starting to get drunk, unless you've got something stashed away in your quarters that I don't know about?"

"Too tempting," Lavellan admitted. "And going over reports and such things is better done with a clear head."

Dorian smirked, drawing a smile from her. "You disappoint me, Inquisitor," he said.

Lavellan shook her head. "Shaelora," she said. "I'm here as Shaelora, not the inquisitor, tonight."

Dorian drew back in surprise. "I- I see." His expression softened. "Shaelora. Thank you."

"Anything for a friend, Dorian. Now, I believe I promised you beer." She smiled fondly and retreated to the bar. Dorian sat back and awaited her return.  
___

In the end, neither of them were quite in a stupor, as Dorian had planned, but drinking with company had turned out better than drinking alone. Lavellan had kept him from sinking too deep into depressing memories of his family. Instead, he had told her of the good times, when he was a child, before he had learned that he was something considered shameful to his parents.

"I honestly thought they were going to kill me until Lord Aurelius left. I couldn't believe it when they started laughing. I mean, I'd accidentally set his robes on fire!" Dorian said, leaning over the tavern table. A grin split his face as he recalled the memory of his first display of magic. "My father actually picked me up and hugged me." The smile faded. "He seemed... so proud of me."

"Dorian..." Lavellan leaned over to pat the back of his hand. "You're a talented mage, and if your father can't be proud of you then he doesn't deserve you. Not to mention your other talents. Think of the state that library would be in if not for you!" She giggled, realising distantly that she was drunk.

"Indeed. I deserve a reward for all that archiving and researching and organising of that mess," Dorian replied loftily. "A medal, perhaps. A trophy. At the very least, a certificate announcing my greatness to the world."

"How about another drink?" suggested Lavellan. "...After another round of water," she added. The point of her coming here was not to get drunk with Dorian, after all, but to make sure he was alright and if that meant sliding him tankards of water between pints of beer, then so be it.

Dorian looked less than enthused at the mention of water but waved her away anyway. "Go on then, if you insist."

Lavellan beamed at him and slipped away to fetch some water and beer from the bar.  
____

Lavellan walked Dorian back to his room when the hour grew too late to stay in the tavern. There was a sway in his step but he wasn't completely drunk, not any more. Lavellan silently congratulated herself on a job well done. Dorian fumbled his door open.

"Coming in for more drinks, or are we saying goodnight here?" Dorian asked.

"Dorian, I think we've both had enough to drink for one night, don't you?" Lavellan replied. She was a little unsteady on her feet, so she leaned against the wall.

"Speak for yourself, my dear," Dorian said. "I am always up for a little more. In fact, I think I have a bottle somewhere... Ah, here we go." Dorian rooted around in his dresser as he spoke until he found a bottle of wine as yet unopened.

Lavellan frowned. "Dorian..." She crossed the room and laid a hand on his arm. "Drinking isn't the answer, and it's not even a temporary solution."

"But it is a wonderful distraction from my less than ideal family life," Dorian retorted.

"A family life that is far away now," Lavellan said. "We're your family now, lethallin, if you'll have me, have us."

Dorian may not have understood the elvish term but the sentiment floored him - metaphorically speaking. Lavellan had a habit of doing that lately, it seemed. First she helped him at least start ...something like making amends with his father - or rather, his father was making amends with him - and then she was going around defending him and calling him brave - and now here she was, declaring him family. "Strange family," he said weakly. 

"But mine," countered Lavellan. "I- I haven't got my clan here, but I seem to be making my own out of misfits and vagabonds and runaways." She smiled, just a hint of her old homesickness showing through. "None of this is planned. I don't know what I'm doing most of the time. I just know I want to help people, protect Thedas and defeat Corypheus. It's... scary," she admitted in a whisper. "But I feel better knowing there are people like you by my side."

"Shaelora..." Dorian was touched, and if his eyes were a little misty then that was down to the drink.

Lavellan reached up to take the wine bottle from his unresisting hands. "Drink some water and get some sleep, Dorian."

Dorian didn't have it in him to refuse any more. "Very well, have it your way. Goodnight, Shaelora, and... thank you."

"Goodnight, Dorian."  
_____

Lavellan was glad to see Dorian looking well the next morning, but she came by with a natural headache remedy in case. 

"I don't feel nearly as bad as I planned to this morning," he greeted. "I suppose that was what all the water was for. If I didn't seem sufficiently grateful last night, please be assured that I am now. Being drunk is all well and good when you are drunk but the next morning, it often doesn't seem worth it."

Lavellan grinned. "That's good to hear. In any case, I brought you a headache remedy in case you needed one." She handed him a small pouch. "The recipe is from my clan. Keep it, if you need it later."

Dorian took it gratefully. "Thank you." He tucked it away in a pouch. "You know, when I came to the Inquisition, I only hoped to right some of the wrongs that have come out of my homeland. I thought I would be tolerated, at best. I expected the rumours and the accusations. I never thought I would find... acceptance. Friends. A new kind of family, even."

"Lethallin," Lavellan said softly. "I'm glad you're here. Where would I be without my dear friend Dorian?"

Dorian laughed. "Where would you be indeed?"

Impulsively, Lavellan leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Take care of yourself."

"Naturally. And you should take care too. All this running about after your friends must leave you exhausted."

"No more than a quick jog across the hinterlands does, or the storm coast. Speaking of..." She trailed off with a teasing smile, laughing outright at the look of displeasure on Dorian's face.

"Hm, wet, rainy weather and stormy seas to trigger my seasickness, to say nothing of the dragonlings, darkspawn and other nasties out there. No, my dear, I think I'll pass, as you knew I would."

"I knew you'd say that. I was planning to ask Solas anyway," Lavellan replied. "I'll talk to you later."

"Indeed." Dorian watched Lavellan walk away, feeling a swell of affection for his elven friend. This wasn't what he had expected at all, but it did much to convince him that he was most definitely doing the right thing by staying.

**Author's Note:**

> I am far too attached to Dorian.


End file.
